


I Couldn't Escape.

by Lucy_Mariogld



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Charles is a legit demon, F/F, F/M, Following the plot of the musical., Is there shipping? Who knows!, Juno has a thing for Miss Argentina, Lydia is Beetlejuice and Beej is Lydia., On Hiatus, The Maitlands stay the same. They shouldn't be changed. There's no one more boring than them, swap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-24 20:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21343918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy_Mariogld/pseuds/Lucy_Mariogld
Summary: Lydia Deetz has been trapped in the mortal world for over a decade. Well, trapped is an overstatement yet but being a dead demon in the waking world isn't that fun when you can't affect the mortal world or be seen.Lawrence 'Beetlejuice' Guese lost his father and now only just discovered his mother's plans of moving them to another state to the sleepy town of Winter River.What happens when their worlds collide?
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz, Miss Argentina | Receptionist/Juno
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	1. A Different View.

“Ready set, not-AaaHHH!” The two figures plummeted through the floorboards, a splintering crash echoing upwards. The teenage figure looked down at them, ghostly pale as she tossed the popcorn box aside along with the 3D glasses. She placed a hand against her hip, glancing upwards, lips curling upwards in a sharp-toothed grin. Her raven hair was mixed with green, her striped coat jacket covered in moss and torn in a few places. Underneath the jacket was a tattered black dress and a long pair of mossy striped socks. Her boots scuffed against the wood flooring as she pointed downwards.

“Those two are the Maitlands. They’ve just plummeted to their deaths. This is my shot. God slash Satan you have no clue how long I’ve waited for these two to kick the bucket. First things first, I gotta get rid of the handbook.” As she spoke a large brown book flew from the ceiling, landing by the fireplace. Picking it up, she began to read the beginning of a passage. “The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. Chapter one, The  _ Neitherworld _ ! All ghosts must proceed to the  _ Neitherworld _ ! Nope, not gonna do that.” She shut it closed, a wicked grin appearing on her face. “I’ve gotta get these two loves birds to get a breather to say my name.

“Hey! Let’s do a puppet show! Hey, book!” She held the book like a puppet, moving the spine like a mouth. “ _ Yes, Ms Lyds? _ ” A mockingly childish voice came out of her mouth as she moved the book up and down, the fireplace beside her spark alight. “Yes, Mr Book?  _ Where do books go when they die? _ Oh I dunno, let’s find out!” Lyds threw the book into the fireplace, “ _ AaaaHHH! Tell my storyyyy!” _ She dramatically chuckled. “See, sometimes puppet shows are sad.” She pouted with mock sadness before turning on her heels and walking to behind the couch. “Now that the pesky handbook is gone, I just gotta convince these two to help me.” She sunk behind the couch as the loud sound of someone climbing out echoed. 

“My god. That was terribly close, Adam. Are you alright?” Barbra Maitland stood on her feet, clutching her husband’s hand tightly. “You’re cold. I’ll go light the fire. When did-?”

“Thank god we didn’t die. I started asking myself those questions, why didn’t we ever try to have a child again. Why-Why are our bodies still in the basement?” Adam paused, staring downwards. “AaaaH!” He belted, darting over to her. And then he saw his wife’s fingers on fire. “AAAAaaah!” They both screamed.

“Adam! I don’t think we survived that fall!” Barbra breathed out, eyes darting towards her husbands. 

“Uh. Hi!” Lyds peaked up from behind the couch, sheepishly waving hello. “You are dead. I am dead also.”

“AaaaHHHHHH!” The screamed in response, Adam clutching his deceased lover closely.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Calm down. Geez.” Lyds screamed, jumping over the couch and rapidly waving her hands. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe. You had your whole lives ahead of you and all. But tell me, how didja nail that one?” She elbowed Barbra in the side, pointing at Adam. 

“Excuse me!” The older women blurted out. 

“What? Awww, c’mon, I’ve been waiting forever for you guys to die and now you’re finally here! I’m a bio-exorcist, I can get rid of any breather.” Lyds kicked roughly against the ground, scuffing her already ruined shoes. 

“Bio-what?” Adam asked, confused. Suddenly, Lyds perked up, grabbing Barbra roughly and dipping her into a kiss. 

“Woah! Woah! Woah! That’s my  _ wife! _ ” Adam protested, tearing her away from Barbra rapidly as the demonic teenager pouted.

“Who-Who are you?” Barbra panicky questioned, wiping her mouth of grave dirt.

“Let’s just say that I’m a dead chick who can help you get rid of the breathers that  _ bought your house! _ ” Her arms flew towards the door, revealing a group of people carting out things. 

“No no! We just died how-”

“Time moves differently for the dead!” Lyds explained, checking her filthy nails while idly leaning against the mantle.

The movers handled their possessions roughly, accidentally dropping the antique crib to the ground. “Gah! I hurt my hand on this damn thing.” The first mover yelped, dropping the crib roughly the ground.

“Don’t worry Rob, it’s going to the dump.” The second mover responded, continuing to move the crib.

“You know, it’s not normal for two people to die at once unless it’s a murder-suicide. I’ll tell ya, that’s one rocky eternity! Ya need me. Please, for the love of all that is unholy just hire me!” She floated where she was, legs crossed as she picked at her ear slightly. The two ghosts turned away, desperation in their eyes. They glanced at the teenage girl, slight trepidation echoing through them. 

“Okay. We’ll hire you.” 

* * *

The tires crunched against the gravel of the driveway, the vehicle halting to a stop at the edge of the old white Victorian house. Releasing his grip on the window’s edge, the young teenager glanced upwards, sandy blonde hair ruffled as both the driver’s side and the passenger door was pushed open and a breeze blew past. “Come on, Lawrence. Stop staring.” His mother’s voice jerked his attention back to her, eyes darting towards her as he unbuckled the belt at his side. 

His mother was a smoky old woman, slightly hunched and old. With pre-maturely grey hair and glasses, she could be mistaken for someone twice her age.

“Oh Juno, don’t mind him.” Tina, a slim and fiery-haired woman stated, ushering his mother up the steps of the house.

He watched his mother’s ascent towards the house, eyes wandering upwards again. With a sigh, the young man walked up the steps of the old house, his footfalls creaking every once and a while. Idly, he adjusted his black t-shirt slightly, scruffing his boots against the wood of the patio.

The movers walked past, lifting one of his mother’s modern couches into the house. He followed through, leaning against the mantle as he idly scratched what scant stubble he had for his age. With a chuckle, he picked up the old woollen blanket that was draped on the floor beside the mantle, dramatically falling onto the couch, the blanket falling across him. “Hey, Ma! Does this make me look dead?”

“Lawrence. Get off that, it’s a display piece.” His mother rubbed her temples, seemingly frustrated at his behaviour. He smirked, continuing his morbid display. 

“Oh! Put that on my tombstone. _ ‘Lawrence Guese, died on a display couch’ _ .” He rose a hand to extricate what he was saying, lips curling into a smile.

“Lawrence! What did I tell you?” Tina was instantly darting over, placing a hand on his shoulder.

With another sly smile, he attempted to mick her as closely as he could. “ _ God. Stop being so depressed, I really need this job- _ ”

“NOOO! No. No. I do believe I quoted my Guru Maxie in saying, Sadness is like kale salad. Just  _ throw _ it away.” Tina was perky, standing straight as she declared her cheesy statement.

“Ugh, no!” His smile fell greatly, rising from the couch. “Ma, when can we go back home?” Lawrence wandered over to his mother who was hunched over plans. 

“We can’t. I sold the house.” She curtly replied, eyes glancing up at him. “We’re living here now.”

“What?! No-Dead Dad loved that house!”

“Dead-Lawrence, what have I told you?” Her previously content mood had shifted.

“But Ma-”

“No  _ ‘Buts’ _ Lawrence. Otho is coming to check out the house and you mustn’t complain. This house has two days to be turned into a  _ model _ house with a  _ model _ family inside.” His mother jerked a hand into his chest, the teenager lowered his head. Both she and Tina walked off, perhaps to head outside. 

Slightly dejected, he wandered to the couch, picking up a box slightly. It was just filled with his video games, the objects electing another shoulder slumping. His father had given them to him. But he was dead now.

His mother had slowly begun to ignore him. He just wanted a sign to know if his father was truly gone. His mother was moving forward, leaving him behind to continue to mourn.

Lawrence lifted the box up, slowly heading up the steps as he pushed the first door open. The room could have been a guest bedroom, or perhaps a child’s. He had heard of the fate of the previous owners on the long drive to Connecticut. His bed had already been placed in the room, along with his dresser and his shabby old television he had repaired with his father. Setting the box down, he peered back outside, watching the moves carrying items around. They had been here before him or his mother, already unpacking everything he held dear.

* * *

Meanwhile and elsewhere, in the shabby attic above the chaos, a pair of recently deceased watched with rapt attention at the other dead person in front of them. The Maitlands had fallen to their doom what seemed to be less than an hour ago and here they were, hiding in their own attic with another dead person. Barbra Maitland grabbed hold of her husband, Adam, gripping his hand tightly. 

The teenage ghost in front of them continued to ramble. They had been rather surprised when a pale teenager had appeared, moments after their death, also claiming to be dead. With her black flowing, yet ragged, dress, striped coat jacket, shallow cheeks and black and green hair, it wasn’t hard to believe the truth behind her words despite how blunt they were. Adam and Barbra were dead. Neither of them knew what to make of the dead girl in front of them. Barbra still felt her skin crawling from their first encounter, the taste of grave dirt still in her mouth from the impromptu kiss.

“-And that’s how I figured out that men really don’t like it when you slap them.” She concluded, sharp ears shifting when she grinned.

“Excuse me, but why are we in the attic?” Adam politely asked. 

“Because I’m gonna teach you how to scare those breathers downstairs!” She pipped. “I’m gonna give you a class on how to be a ghost.”

“Oh! We’ve taken plenty of classes at the rec centre. We went and did this glass blowing class. It was sure fun. Although, we kinda just ate cheese and drank wine while we watched.” Barbra chortled out, a smile rising.

“Oh and I think our teacher was Wiccan, that’s close, right?” Her husband beamed.

“Nope. Not even close. Okay, I really hate to break it to ya, but you’re sexy, super polite, middle-class, sexy, suburban and white. Nothing about you is scary. But that’s gonna all change. Expect for the white part, obviously.” She listed off those things with her fingers, showing her finger-less gloves. “Oh! How about this,” She smirked. “Throw your voice.” The voice appeared behind them. “Fool your friends!” And then to their left. “Fun at parties!” And then their right.

“That’s so cool.” Barbra laughed, smiling widely.

“I’m sorry, but how about you going to make us scary?” The ghostly male questioned. Both ghosts were jerked to their feet instantly by an unseen force. The teenage demon slumped her shoulders, letting loose a groan. 

“Okay. Okay. Let’s start with something easy. I know you two are super sexy but stop being sexy for more moment, okay? What’s something you hate?” The ghost pressed.

“Well, hate’s a very strong word, I don’t-” Adam seemed hesitant, glancing at his wife.

“Perhaps when people are late?”

“Or getting pooped on by birds”

“No!” The demon patted Barbra on the back rather roughly, sending her forward slightly. “What fills you with rage?” 

“Being mean to a pet!”

“Chefs who use too much sage when they make beurre noisette,” Adam stated quite passionately, hand clenched into a fist.

“Okay?” Lyds glanced between them as they listed their meanless dislikes.

“Over-glutinous food!”

“Or when kids call me  _ ‘dude’ _ ” Adam clutched onto his wife’s hand, face turning to a scowl.

“Oh, I find that so rude!” Barbra turned to her husband, nodding along.

“Alright. Well, that’s enough. Now use that hate and gimmie your best primal scream.” She leant backwards, crossing her legs over as she idly floated there. Both ghosts started to make groaning noises, attempting to stretch their faces, screaming loudly. 

“AAAAH!” Both screamed, trying to look horrifying but failing greatly. 

“Geez!” The demon nodded along, a small smile appearing. “Not bad! Okay, but when you give them the fright of their lives, you gotta get one of them to say this three times.” She landed on her feet, pulling forth a small piece of card.

“This says  _ ‘Delia Deetz, Life Coach.’ _ ” Adam looked confused, lowering the card. Quite rapidly, did the demon snatch it out of his grasp, stuffing it back into her pocket. 

“Whoops. Wrong universe. Although you’re still the same. Anyway! This should be it!” She withdrew a second card, Adam pulling it from her rather clawed fingers. 

“ _ Lydia _ ?  _ Lydia _ ?  _ Lydia _ ? This just says  _ ‘Lydia.’ _ three times.” He was still confused.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” Barbra quietly whispered, glancing up at the demon. 

“Yep. Don’t wear it out!” She seemed quite perky, clutching her lapels with two outstretched hands.

“Why doesn’t it do anything when we say it? Why-”

“I NEED SOMEONE WHO’S ALIVE!” She suddenly shouted, the usual green of her hair shifting to a deep crimson. “I need someone who is alive to say it! It doesn’t work with dead people!” Lydia growled. They recoiled slightly, startled by her sudden outburst. “Why did it have you be you two. Of all the dead people in the fucking world, I get you. A tax attorney would have been better than either of you! That’s it, I’m done. Fuck this!”

“Hey! Where are you going?” Adam protested, glancing at his wife.

“I know this is all a bunch of words on a page but your gonna have to read something else. The Maitlands. More boring than Brigadoon! That’s right, I said it! Fuck Brigadoon! And don’t try to call me back because it won’t work!” With that she stormed out of the attic, slamming the door behind her. A moment later, it opened back up. “Hey, guys?”

“What?” Barbra asked.

“Fuck you!” And she left once more. Adam let loose a cry of outrage, pointing a finger towards the door as it slammed shut.

“She has some issues. I hope there’s a dead therapist somewhere that can help her!” He heaved a sigh, sitting down on a nearby box with dejection.

“That creepy pervert was right, Adam. We’ve got nothing left to lose. We’re dead for heaven’s sake.” She rapidly turned away, picking up the nearby guest sheets as an idea struck. 

“Barbra! Those are our guest sheets. What are you doing?” He questioned, watching as she pulled forth a pair of scissors.

“I’m cutting holes. We might as well do what we know. Let’s-Let’s haunt this bitch!” She declared, slipping one of the sheets over herself as she tossed the second one to her husband.


	2. A Ghostly Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lawrence does some sleuthing and Lydia goes to the bathroom because it's the only place she can logically hide. Also, she likes the tiles, well, tearing them apart to be exact.

“Just telling me to be happy won’t work, Tina!” He angrily slammed the door, heard the wooden barrier clicking roughly in the lock. Lawrence paused, hearing noises vaguely beyond his door. Tina was trying yet again to get him to open up. He opened the door roughly, staring at the  _ two _ figures by a nearby wall. 

“-every wall an accent wall!” A female voice he didn’t recognise shouted. Two people covered in shabby old bedsheets with floral patterns were staring at the wall. He withdrew his phone before speaking up.

“Who are you?” Both of the unusual figures turned around, the jagged holes in the sheets staring at him. He snapped a photo as the town figures bolted, heading towards the stairs. Lawrence stared at the image on his phone, forehead scrunching in confusion. “No… feet. Huh?” He looked back up, instantly darting towards the attic stairs, feet clamouring against the flooring. Something supernatural was occurring and he was going to figure it out.

He paused, easing the door open slightly. “Hi. Are you guys ghosts?” He slowly asked. The two figures in sheets jolted, staring at him. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. Promise. I’m,“ He paused, stepping through the door completely as he clicked it behind himself. “Lawrence but people call me  _ ‘Beetlejuice’ _ cause it sounds cooler.” Lawrence smile slightly, the two unknown figures sorta just staring. He crossed his arms slightly, a smile lighting upon his face. “Why sheets? Oh! Are you horribly disfigured under there or something?!” He moved forward, trying to peer through the sheet holes with a pair of fingers tugging downwards.

“No. no. no. We’re just normal people.” The female ghost said as she removed her sheet, followed by the other one. “I’m Barbra and this is Adam.” She pointed to the second ghost at her side.

“Wait, you can see us? We were told the living usually can’t see the strange and unusual.” Adam looked at Lawrence, slightly quizzical. 

“I’m not like normal people. I, myself, am strange and unusual.” He responded after a moment of pondering. 

“You seem like a normal kid to me, Lawrence,” Barbra told him sincerely, smiling.

“You know you can call me Beetlejuice. Or Beej. Or BJ. Seriously. Just anything but Lawrence.” A scowl crossed his face slightly.

“Alright, Beetlejuice,” Barbra said rather cautiously, almost as if she was testing the waters to see if it was cold or not. 

”You really are dead, aren’t you?” He stated after looking at them a little longer. They flinched in response, causing a slightly guilty look to riddle their faces. “Oh sorry. Touchy subject I suppose. Why were you wearing those sheets anyway?”

“We were trying to scare your mother and her sister out of our house,” Adam explained.

“Tina isn’t my mother’s sister. She’s a stupid life couch that my ma hired.” His nose became scrunched as he referred to the other living inhabitants in the house. “I don’t even like her that much.”

“What about your father?” Barbra asked after lowering the sheets to the side. 

“He’s, uh, dead. My dad would have loved this, honestly. He was all about the supernatural. We used to dress up our house every year for Halloween and we would scare them crazy!” He was smiling now until it fell when he realized who he was talking to. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with stories about Dead Dad. I swear it’s illegal to talk about him in my house.”

“Well, I don’t see any cops around, heh?” Adam smirked, letting loose a chuckle. Barbra snorted slightly, stifling her laughter.

“Adam. That’s really not funny.” Barbra smiled slightly, squeezing her husband’s hand.

“That’s one traditional dad joke.” Lawrence smiled along, watching the ghostly couple exchange sad glances.

“It’s not like I got a chance to use them when I was alive.” Adam sighed, shoulders lowering slightly. 

“I’d really like to help, honestly.”

“No one else can see us. The living ignore the dead.” He remained Lawrence, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll make her see us then.”

* * *

“MA! THERE’S GHOSTS AND THEY’RE SUPER HORRIFYING!” Lawrence belted at the top of his lungs, bursting into his mother’s bedroom. 

“What are you talking about, Lawrence?” His mother stared at him, her vermilion nightgown wrapped at her waist with a simple sash. Barbra and Adam came in, tugging at their eyelids and making moaning stereotypical ghost noise. 

“We’ve gotta go back to New York ‘cause the ghosts want us out. Look at their eye’s they’ve got worms ‘n stuff coming out of them. Aaah!” He pointed at them, dramatically screaming before running forward and pulling off his mother's bed sheets. He froze, staring at the red-headed women beneath. Tina let out a puff of smoke, guiltily glancing at his mother.

“Hey.” Tina smokingly replied, sheepishly sitting up. “Lawrence, it’s not what you-” Tina’s voice was in his ears but he didn’t pay her any attention. He swirled around and stared at his mother with utter fury marked in his eyes.

“You and her!? Ma, I-” He began to choke up, trying to understand what was going on. The evidence suggested something he’d rather not think about. His emotions felt as if a bucket of water had suddenly plunged across his body. His shoulders slumped, a devastated look appearing on his face.

“I’ve asked Tina… to marry me, son,” His mother stated, eye grazing across to Tina’s own. 

“No! No! You can’t-”

“You need someone else in your life, Lawrence. Just for once-” Her voice sounded strained, desperate.

“I wish I was dead.” His words dripped with venom as he stared at his mother. He stormed out of the room without a second thought, the two silent ghosts vanishing to the attic with restrained frustration.

* * *

Elsewhere, the young-looking demon picked at the shabby look tiles beside the bathtub. Sitting on her knees, she picked at the material holding it to the wall. Hair drenched with blue and purples, Lydia let loose a sigh, falling onto her back until she was inside the bathtub, even more so invisible to anyone. “Whyyyy…?” She groaned, hands hovering above her face.

“I’m so stupid. Those vanilla idiots can’t-why did I think it was going to work?! It’s not a damn musical where I can sing about my feelings and then shit will magically happen!” She grumbled. “You’re invisible when you’re me, it seems.” 

And then the door opened. Peering over the edge, hidden by the flimsy and flowery cloth curtain, she stared at the breather who had entered. It was a male. He looked old but not old enough to be an adult. A teenager perhaps? He had sandy blonde hair, a black t-shirt slumped over his sagging shoulders. He looked to pale to be alive. In one hand, he clutched a wrinkled letter, in the other was a sharp kitchen knife.

“By the time you read this, I, Lawrence ‘Beetlejuice’ Guese will have… “ He paused, choking up slightly. “Will have slit my wrists. I can’t take it anymore. I hate how you ignore me. I hate how you as my mother don’t care. I’m alone. Forsaken.” Lydia rolled her eyes. Breathers and their stupid mortal problems. “Invisible.”

“That makes two of us...” She sarcastically mumbled, knowing full-well he couldn’t hear her.

“Who the hell are you?” His eyes darted towards her, wide-eyed as the knife clattered to the ground. Lydia instantly rose to her feet tearing the curtain aside. 

“You can see me?!” She frantically shouted, the teenage boy suddenly looking startled.

“Yeah…”

“You  _ CAN _ see me! Oh, this is amazing!” She darted from the bathtub, floating on her knees as a broad smile crossed her lips. 

“What is happening?” He questioned, staring at her as he slowly picked the knife up, pointing it at her in what seemed to be self-defence.

“I know it’s hard to believe but-” Lydia began to ramble, leaning against her arm as she did so, her free hand waving back and forth.

“Are you a ghost like Adam and Barbra?” Her previously chipper mood shifted slightly. So he had met the Maitlands. Great. 

“Uh. Not exactly.” She sheepishly answered, scratching her chin before splitting into a sharp-tooth grin. “Demon is more fitting. Look kid, I can help ya. Seriously. I’ve loooove to see you spill crimson onto these dump titles any day but you’re the only one who can see me. You gotta help me here.”

“Why should  _ I _ help you?” He seemed restrained, his question brutally sharp and to the point.

“You don’t like your mom, do ya? Look, I hate my dad too! He’s a literal demon. He’s all like,  _ ‘Geez! Get a job!’  _ and _ ‘Why is your hair purple?!’  _ and _ ‘I should’ve left like your mother.’ _ ” She complained before lifting an arm to sling it around his shoulder. “You could use a buddy. You know, a pal? Dude, the way I see it, you’re ma should be leaving and you should stick around. And kill her.” 

“What?”

“Nothing! So, Beetlejuice don’t end yourself. Seriously.” She snatched the sheet of paper away, burning the note to a crisp. “I’ll kill ya Ma and all you gotta do it say my name.”

“Only my friends call me that. And I don’t know your name.” He was looking at her with a mixture of curiosity, trepidation and reservation. 

“Well. I kinda  _ can’t _ say it. Uh… I know! Where is it?” She rapidly  patted across her person, sticking her hands into her pockets as she pulled out an array of things such as bugs and even a few human fingers. “Ah ha! Here it is.” She flicked the small piece of card forward. 

“Lydia? Your name is Lydia?” He raised an eyebrow, clutching the tiny piece of stained and yellow card between his fingers. 

“Yep! And all you gotta do is say my name three times, Three times in a row it must be spoken unbroken.” She grinned even further, reciting it like a long-forgotten poem.

He eyed her up and down, stepping to the side as he did so. “Lydia.” She nodded along, humming with joy. “Lydia.” 

“Yes! Just one more!” Her hands had become fists, claw-like fingernails driving into her ghostly palms. 

“ I'll think about your offer, let you know, but I prefer my chances in hell. ” He smirked. “You seem like a nice demon-ghost chick but I’m really not interested in summoning a demon to murder my ma.  Yes, life sucks, but not that much. Just spare me the fucking lecture.”

“ I'm offering you a full-time spectre for fuck sake!” Lydia declared, hair flaring red in a few places. Lawrence seemingly ignored that, staring back at her. Despite the fact he was taller than her, she still maintained eye level as she leant on her stomach.

“Are you any good?” He questioned.

“You bet'cha, trust me, kid! Don't you wanna see mommy suffer?” She responded chipperly. This kid was starting to get on her nerves at this point.

“I just met ya. Really it's a flattering offer. I think I'd rather just slit my wrists right now.” He lifted the knife slightly.

“No!” Lydia screamed, wacking the entire thing out of his hand as it clattered to the floor.

“I may be suicidal but Lydia, it's not as if I've lost my mind.” Lawrence declared, staring defiantly at her.

“So, playing hardball, huh? You are tougher than you look. I mean you are super pudgy but eh.” She leant back against her elbows, crossing her legs slightly.

“Just wanna make sure I know who I'm dealing with when summoning a fucking demon. Got any references?”

“Beetlejuice, there you are!” Barbra’s concerned voice was followed by Adam’s. “Are you alright?”

“A-Dog, B-Town, my old pals!” Lydia grinned more, grabbing the two ghosts into a group hug.

“Get away from him! Beetlejuice, this is a dangerously unstable individual!” Adam snarled, pushing Lydia off of him before she floated back to Lawrence. Suddenly, the ghostly couple's movement became stiffened as Lydia moved her hands in a puppeteer-like motion.

“Lydia is sexy!” Barbra declared, Lawrence recoiled in surprise. This mildly amused Lydia, a curt smirk curling up her lips.

“Lydia is smart!” Then Adam.

“Lyds is a graduate of Juilliard! She can help, we found her on Yelp! Our troubles all ended on the day that we befriended her! Every word is the truth! Lydia, Lydia, Lydia!” The said in horrifying, sing-song tandem. And then the stiffness vanished as they fell apart from each other.

“What the heck was that?!” Sheer terror plastered the older woman’s face.

“So violating!” Adam shuttered, bending over slightly as if trying to catch their breath.

“There you go, kid. Couple of five-star reviews,” Lydia said as if it was completely normal.

“What was that?!” Lawrence shouted, pulling back as his shoulder bumped into the sink.

“That was possession. Any ghost can do that in less than one lesson.” Lydia held up a singular finger to make her point. Whatever that kid was thinking, it seemed important as his face became scrunched with thought.

“Any ghost?”

“Pretty much, any ghost'll do sure.” The demon girl shrugged, checking her grimy nails as if nothing happened.

“Then, Lydia, what do I need you for?”

“Woah, woah, woah woah woah! Hold up- hold up, dude,” His words took her off guard, the demon instantly twirling and jabbing a finger into his chest. “I'm your pal! They're sweet, but I'm a demon straight from Hell. I know, I went a little hard on the sell. But c’mon kid!”

“I think I’ll pass.” With that, he left the bathroom, the seething demon staring at the ghostly couple with rage. 

“Get out. GET OUT!” She snarled at them before Barbra yelped, rushing after Lawrence with her husband in tow. She had lost his chance. Again.


End file.
